Why the Good Lord thought to bless me with a ginger baby, I do not rightly know.
I feel for the poor mite already.
I am one of those awful people that self-deprecates and this sadly means, that by association, I other-deprecate (really not sure of my ongoing use of the English language here) those close to me, those who, really, deep down, I love very much indeed.
My poor man has had years of this – mainly, my pointing out to him that he’s little. Well, in particular, that he has small extremities – you know, head, feet, hands, and… ah-hem… the other extremity. It’s not his fault, and actually, he’s not really that little (c. 5ft 10ish – no, not his willy…) but he’s not who I envisioned myself ending up with. I had always thought (in my innocent teenage years) that my future man creature would be tall, dark and handsome. The actuality is smallish, gingerish and normal looking.
Please don’t feel too sorry for him though as recently he’s very keen to point out, that considering the nature of my recent 30 minute birth experience, that his winkie wouldn’t seem so small if I wasn’t blessed with a bucket for a fanny. Like throwing a sausage up the High Street so I’m told…
I’ll also hasten to add that I’m more than normal looking too. As are the children. Well suited you see. I suspect a tall dark and handsome man wouldn’t have settled for my good self. And, as I’ve commented before, if I had wildly attractive children, people may think I’d nicked them.
However, for me, if there’s something to comment on, or to put my foot in about, I’ll generally do it. So, three weeks ago, I had a ginger baby. Now, to put this in context, I really like ginger hair. My Scottish ancestry means many family members (including my father) are similarly blessed. However, can I stop commenting on it?
No, I bloody can’t.
I sing songs about it, take photos of it glinting in its full-on gingerness to post on social media and I introduce the her as ‘The Ginger Baby’ or ‘Meet My Carrot’. I then usually add that ginger is caused by a recessive gene on chromosome 16 which causes a mutation in the MC1R protein.
It’s not that she doesn’t have enough to contend with, what with my hatred of all things girly (see http://badmummydiary.wordpress.com/2013/08/06/give-me-a-willy-anyday/), so today, for instance, she’s dressed in a dinosaur camouflage suit.
My son was similarly mocked (although his hair is totally nondescript in colour) as he has quite (well, ok then, very) large ears. So what do I do? I take photos of him back-lit by the sun so that they light up red like magic dumbo ears….
However, as I am quick to point out to the Man, my son and will do to The Carrot when she’s old enough – I only mock those I love.
So that’s OK then… isn’t it?
BAD MUMMY x x x